


Brooklyn Boy

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic [118]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Slash, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8191330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: LJ Comment Fic for Free For All prompt: any, any, you suck at dancing but you’re doing it in the middle of a bookstore to the crappy music on the radio and I think it’s pretty damn cute au
In which Steve visits a bookstore and meets the charismatic owner, and sparks fly!





	

Steve knew he was an old-fashioned guy; his friends teased him often enough about it. He owned a laptop, of course, but he didn’t use it for his art and he absolutely wasn’t interested in getting one of those e-readers for recreational reading. He preferred curling up with an actual book, physically turning the pages.

Whenever he was on the road, which was a lot, he stopped in at local bookstores. Nothing big, like Barnes & Noble. Steve preferred the little shops, the quirky shops, ones that catered to local authors and offered more to their communities than just books.

Brooklyn Boy Books was just one such find, in a small town in Northern California. 

Steve liked it as soon as he walked through the door. The store was bright and welcoming, there were a lot of themed displays, and there were plenty of comfy looking chairs scattered around that encouraged people to sit and read.

He browsed for a bit, running his fingers along book spines as he went. The categories were unconventional: _For Lonely Nights, Aggressive Romance, Boring Stuff Made Cool, Science is Awesome_.

There was a coffee station, offering cups for a quarter and a selection of individually-wrapped muffins and brownies from the bakery down the street. Payment was made on the honor system, into a little glass jar.

The only thing Steve would’ve changed about the bookstore was the music. Most bookstores played quiet background music, easy listening or elevator music. Brooklyn Boy Books was playing some kind of boy band pop music, of which Steve wasn’t a fan.

Then again, pop music had its benefits. Such as the guy behind the counter who was dancing while he checked out a customer. He was a terrible dancer, but watching him get his groove on made Steve smile.

“Happy reading!” the guy said. He fist-bumped his customer, a girl who couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen. 

“Thanks, Mr. B!”

The clerk was pretty good-looking, jerky dance moves aside. Well built, broad shoulders, hair pulled back from his face and secured with a ridiculous red scrunchy. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt that clung in all the right places, and showed off a left arm that was fully inked.

“Can I help you find something?”

Steve flushed, caught staring. “Uh, no. Just looking around.”

The guy waggled his eyebrows. “See anything you like?”

That was so unexpected that Steve got flustered as well as embarrassed, and just grabbed a random book off the closest shelf. He handed it to the guy, who took it and immediately began laughing.

“Lesbian erotica?”

Steve looked at the shelf in horror. _Rainbow Literature_. Which he was in no way opposed to, obviously, but erotica of any stripe really wasn’t his thing. His friends were right: he was too old-fashioned.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re really looking for, and I’ll help you find it.” 

The guy came around the counter and suddenly his jerky dancing style made sense. He had a leg brace on his left leg, from thigh to ankle.

“I’m Bucky, and if you couldn’t tell by my accent, I’m the Brooklyn Boy.” He held out his hand and Steve shook it. He had a firm, confident handshake.

“You’re a long way from home,” Steve said.

Bucky patted the side of his brace. “Can’t take the weather there anymore, not long term. Did my rehab out here and decided to stay.”

Steve wondered if Bucky had been in the military, or if his injury was the result of a car accident or something. It didn’t seem polite to ask. And then he realized he was still holding the man’s hand and he tried to pull his back as casually as possible; he didn’t quite pull it off.

“And you are?” Bucky asked expectantly.

“Oh. Steve. And actually, I’m also from Brooklyn. Greenpoint.”

“No shit? Well, that gets you the hometown discount, my friend. I’m Bed-Stuy, myself.” Bucky clapped him on the shoulder. “So what are you looking to read? What’s your genre?”

There was something very likeable about Bucky, and Steve quickly forgot his earlier awkwardness. 

“I’m into historical non-fiction, actually. Especially anything on the thirties and forties.”

“Then you want the Golden Oldies section. Follow me.”

Bucky had a rough gait, and the brace creaked a little with each knee bend, but the view from the rear wasn’t at all impaired and Steve took a moment to enjoy it.

“Okay, I’m gonna assume that a good Brooklyn boy like yourself has already read everything on the Dodgers, because if not I might have to revoke that discount.”

Bucky also had a really infectious smile.

“Of course. And most everything on World War Two, especially to do with the Howling Commandos.”

“I think I’ve got just the thing.” He bent down to pull a book off a lower shelf, which looked uncomfortable because of the way he had to stick out the leg in the brace. “Have you read this one? It just came out a few months ago.”

Steve took the offered book, which had a black and white portrait of a woman on the cover. _Peggy Carter: Post-War Spy and Unlikely Patriot_. He did a quick scan of the text on the back cover, nodding to himself. Peggy Carter definitely sounded like someone he needed to know more about.

“This is great, thanks.”

They walked together back to the counter, and Bucky assumed his place behind the register. “So what brings you to town, Steve from Greenpoint?”

“I’m here to take pictures at some local wineries,” Steve said. He handed Bucky his credit card. “For a book someone’s writing.”

Bucky looked at the card, and then looked back at Steve with wide eyes. “Steve Rogers? _The_ Steve Rogers? Holy shit, man, I love your work! We sell prints of your photos in the back.”

Steve was always a little embarrassed when people recognized him, though he knew he had no reason to be. He loved taking pictures, loved traveling. And he was good at it. 

“I don’t want to put you on the spot, but do you think you could autograph something for me?”

“Sure. Of course.”

Bucky limped off, and returned with the only book that was all Steve’s, and not just his pictures. “Normally autographed copies get auctioned off for charity, but I’m gonna be selfish and keep this one for the store.”

Steve signed the book with a flourish. Bucky was all smiles when he handed Steve his purchase.

“I really appreciate this, man. Thank you.”

“Thanks for the book recommendation.”

Steve wanted to linger, but he couldn’t find a reasonable excuse to do so. Especially when more customers came and needed Bucky’s attention.

He slipped out the door and was almost to his car before he thought to check his receipt and see if there really was a discount. There was, ten percent, but more importantly there was a phone number written across the bottom of the receipt. Steve tucked it carefully inside the book.

Maybe he’d stick around the area after his job was done. See what else Brooklyn Boy Books had to offer.


End file.
